


On the Veldt

by Baknami



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Fluff, Found Family, Fsickness, Gen, friends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-15 23:09:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16073306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baknami/pseuds/Baknami
Summary: A Found Family Final Fantasy 6 Fic.  Or FFFF6F for short.  Cyan and Sabin wait out a sickness spell while awaiting Gau's return from roaming the plains with the beasts.





	On the Veldt

**Author's Note:**

> So I was playing Dissidia Opera Omnia and Chapter 11 had really cute Figabro interactions and I wanted to do something for FF6. Poor thing doesn't get the love it deserves, but I was spinning my wheels and couldn't come up with anything, well, "new" for the two, I suppose.
> 
> Then I realized I was going about it the wrong way. I love family stuff, and what better family was in FF6 than Cyan, Sabin and Gau? So I did something short for them. Hope you like it!

The Veldt was fairly windy, and while it wasn't humid, it was so hot that the three travelers' strength was sapped just walking across the grasslands. The Doman samurai Cyan Garamonde trudged through the thick grasses, sword at his side, but every once in a while he turned back to look at the two following behind in his wake.

The young monk Sabin Figaro was muttering to himself, using a large, meaty hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he took a laborious breath and pressed onward. There was no doubt in Cyan's mind that Sabin was a powerful, strong man, which made the samurai curious as to why he was slowing down. Normally he would attribute it to the two of them traveling through a forest before fighting the Phantom Train and then leaping off of a waterfall into the Veldt, but Cyan had done the same thing, and he never thought for a moment that Sabin would be winded by something like that if the samurai was not.

The little creature they picked up on the grasslands, who could barely speak much more than a few growls and groans (Sabin called him “Gau” after the cat-like roars the child would make once in a while) was nowhere to be seen, but Cyan had remembered that he would tend to follow a pack of wild animals before loping back in stride with them an hour or two later. The Doman nodded and turned to face forward, shoving the brush aside and creating a path for the monk who lagged behind.

Cyan paused when he heard the grasses rustle behind him, and he turned to see Sabin drop to the floor with a grunt. With a gasp, the samurai was instantly at the young man's side, kneeling down and inspecting the gasping monk. “Calm thyself, Sir Sabin. Dost thou need some water?”

“I'm... I'm fine,” Sabin replied between his labored breaths, and Cyan pulled a cloth from around his waist before mopping up the sweat on the man's brow. Cyan watched as Sabin raised his eyes to meet the samurai's, and the younger man let out a short chuckle. “Okay, maybe I'm not, ahaha.”

“We camp here,” Cyan said, either missing the joke or ignoring it. He handed the cloth to the monk and pushed on his shoulder, a silent order to stay seated and regain his strength. He stood up and scanned the area; there was no shade, and the closest tree was a few kilometers away; he wouldn't force the sick man to make the journey, and instead and pulled at the tent in their pack.

“I can help,” Sabin insisted, shifting on his feet to stand; he was halted by Cyan's stern glare, the glare of a father who knew his son was being foolish, and the monk slowly, guiltily, slunk back to the floor. “...You shouldn't have to do everything...”

Cyan snorted, the corners of his lips twitching in a smile, and he tossed his friend a water skin. “Thou might assist me by rehydrating thyself and regaining thy strength.” His words were neither biting nor angry; he was simply stating the obvious as he began to stamp the grasses down in a circle before working on the tent as his “charge” drank the water with a scowl.

“You know I'm not a child,” Sabin began, his voice trying desperately not to take a whining lilt. Cyan finally laughed out loud.

“After what thou didst to the Phantom Train, I should think not, Sir Sabin!” Cyan agreed, but then he grew somber as he hammered the spike into the dirt. “...And yet, pray, allow a father to do what he does best...”

Sabin opened his mouth.

...He watched the samurai work, and he drank three more swigs, hoping to fight off the sickness even quicker.

\---

There was no way to set up a fire, save for cutting down the grasses around them and using them as kindling, but the wind was strong enough that the fire would ignite the dry brush immediately, and so the two had to live with dried jerky from Mobliz instead of anything warm. It was hard to get Sabin to keep still, but he still sat in the shade of the tent and looked at Cyan as the samurai stood resolute and scanned the horizon. “Sir Gau has not returned to us,” he announced for the third time since he set up the camp. He had quickly learned the expression Sabin wore when he started to worry for the child, and had been hoping to assuage the monk's fear. Unfortunately, with nothing but bad news, all Sabin could do was nod and focus on his water skin. If they found the cave on their own, without the kid, would it really be okay to take the shiny treasure? He wasn't like _Locke_ , he didn't take things without permission. ...Not that he assumed Locke took things without permission, except for a little bit, he supposed.

Ugh, his head was a mess, and he groaned more in exasperation than tiredness. Cyan didn't pick up on that, however, and he glanced down at the monk, his expression one of worry. “S-sorry, I'm fine,” Sabin replied, smiling at his Doman friend. Cyan must have been beside himself with fear; they were all the two of them had, at this point. Except even Sabin had a home to go to, a brother to reunite with...

...Cyan's furrowed brow and troubling scowl reminded the monk that the samurai didn't even have that. “I-It's been a long while since it acted up.” He looked up at the samurai, his expression serious. “My brother and I have a pretty rare genetic disease.” Edgar always assumed it was because their great-grandfather married his half-sister, but then his twin turned around and proposed to his second cousin, like  _that_ was any better. “It only really acts up like this when we overexert ourselves, but I've been training nearly my whole life to give me the stamina to combat it better.”

Cyan's worried scowl seemed to soften in understanding, and he finally allowed himself a moment to kneel next to the monk. Sabin shifted, and the samurai reached out to place a hand on his friend's shoulder. “Why didst thou not speak of it? I would not have pushed thou as hard as I did.”

Sabin shrugged, chewing the inside of his mouth in thought. “I-I honestly thought I was past it. I haven't had an episode like this for four years, at least.” And even though he wasn't feeling well out on the fields, Gau had warned them of the dangers of the Veldt (Mostly by screaming “Danger Danger Danger!” a word he had picked up from the Mobliz hunters, probably), and he had assumed they could make it to the Crescent Mountains before needing some time to rest.

Cyan drew back, partially because there was no point in reprimanding the monk, mostly because he knew that Sabin didn't like to be touched for an extended period of time, and the two fell into an uneasy silence. The samurai stretched his legs before pushing himself to his feet and scanning the horizon once again. “...Sir Gau has not returned to us,” he announced for the fourth time. Sabin let out a sigh and flopped on his back, staring up at the now pinkish sky. He was already feeling a little better; he'd be up and running in a few minutes...

He didn't even notice he was snoring as he drifted off to sleep.

\---

_King Stewart Remy Figaro let out an exasperated sigh as Prince Sabin Rene Figaro scowled defiantly at his father, his clothes covered in a layer of dirt and grime. “I told you not to wander outside without an escort! What if you collapsed out in the desert heat?”_

“ _I didn't though,” Sabin grumbled, rubbing his hands on his sleeves. He was trying to wipe the sand from his hands, but only succeeded in getting more sand all over them, “What's the problem?”_

“ _The_ problem _is that you're not as healthy and strong as your brother,” Oh, here they went_ again _. Sabin mentally tuned out the lecture that was coming next, “Edgar has been keeping from aggravating his condition, the least you could do is consider how your actions affect those around you!”_

_There it was, time to remind everyone what a_ perfect _son Edgar was. It wasn't_ Sabin's  _fault he liked to go out despite his condition. Sabin kept his eyes to the floor and made sure to nod at the appropriate time. “Yes, Father. No, Father. Yes, Father.” Until it was painfully obvious that the king wasn't getting through to his son, and he was far too busy with the kingdom to keep the lecturing up, and finally, Stewart waved his son away with a displeased growl._

“ _You're dismissed, go wash yourself off; it wouldn't do to have to have people see the prince of Figaro look so ragged,” his father muttered, turning back to his work as Sabin shuffled off with a groan. He was going to break something at this rate, and Master Duncan would be disappointed if he vented his frustrations in such a way._

_He almost made it to his room without being “assaulted”, but of course Prince Edgar Roni Figaro had to find him on the way to their chambers, and the teenager sneered at his older twin. “You told Father, didn't you?” he muttered, fighting the urge to punch him in the arm, “Can you for once not be a massive tool? Or has the castle's engine turned you into one of them?”_

_Edgar smiled a little at the dig, and he cocked his head to the side, “Sorry, I was just worried. It was getting late, and you hadn't returned yet, so...”_

“ _Stuff it, I really don't want to hear it,” Sabin grumbled, clearly not in the mood. He fought the cough tickling his throat and increased his stride, hoping to outrun his brother._

_Edgar paused a moment, his jovial nature halted by his brother's snap. He took a moment to think of what to say, and he jogged next to Sabin with a worried look. “Uwaaau,” he tried._

“ _Oh, don't you 'Uwaaau' me!” Sabin insisted, shoving on his twin's shoulder. He paused when Edgar didn't fight the push, and the two looked at each other in the eye. It was supposed to be a battle of wills to see who would look away first, but Edgar pushed forward and shoved his hands on Sabin's face, cheeks and forehead._

“ _Hey!” Sabin shouted, slapping at his stupid brother's dumb antics, “You know I don't like being touched, stop it!”_

_“Uwaau!” Edgar whined, his face one of fear._

“ _Dammit, Gau, I told you...!”_ _When would the kid learn not to be such a-_

-Sabin snapped awake, so quickly that Gau jumped in surprise, his fearful expression giving away to relief. “Wauuuuuuu, Mr. Thou. Okay?” the boy asked, hopeful.

“I told you, I'm not Mr-” Sabin halted, and he peered around in the darkness. He could barely see a thing, but apparently Cyan had dragged him into the tent after he started his nap, and the torch the samurai was holding cast the barest hint of light on the young teenager's amiable expression. Gau shoved forward once more and ran his hands all over Sabin's face and head, and he didn't stop until the monk grabbed his wrists and growled in warning. “I don't like being touched.”

Gau looked at the prince's face, then down at their hands, and he finally relaxed enough that Sabin released him. “S-si-sick. Mr. Thou. Sick.” Gau's voice had a hoarse edge to it, as if he had been screaming all day, and that, combined with his attempt at speaking words he wasn't used to, made him sound even more desperate.

“I'm fine, Gau,” Sabin insisted, running his hand through his hair. He winced when it came away sticky with sweat, and he gulped; his throat was dry too. “...Okay, I'm fine _now_.”  At least he sweat the sickness out.

“Mr. Thou not sick...?” Gau asked skeptically, and Sabin reached forward to grab the water skin and drain the rest of the water from it. He made a mental note to apologize to Cyan and ask Gau to lead them a watering hole tomorrow, and he watched as Gau shifted uncomfortably in the tent. He either found the small space claustrophobic, or he was...

...worried about Sabin's illness. As a child raised by animals, he must have known that beasts that were sick were the first to be caught and devoured by predators. Survival of the Fittest ruled the Veldt, and the prince remembered all of the time that he spent trying to get rid of his symptoms so he wouldn't be a burden on his family. So that _he_ wouldn't be caught and devoured by predators.

Sabin let out a guilty sigh, his irritation washing away immediately. Gau had grown up with that simple fact, so it was only natural that he was troubled over the first person to treat him like a human. Sabin smiled at Gau and raised a hand to flick the teenager on the temple. “I'm not going anywhere, Gau. I've lived with this my whole life, and I'm not going to let it get me down.”

“Gauuu!” the teenager croaked, reaching up with his own hand to flick Sabin's temple in reply. The monk laughed, but he was startled by Gau's next action: the child pushed himself up, one more time, and touched Sabin's forehead with his own, a quick nuzzle like the wolves had shown him to do as a child. He then pulled back before Sabin could get angry again and curled up (quite literally) at his friend's side.

The Figaro royal opened his mouth in surprise, and he slowly, tentatively, reached out, placed a hand on Gau's hair, and massaged his scalp. ...Perhaps touching people wasn't so bad, under the right circumstances. “So, how's it feel to be human, you punk?” he asked the resting child rhetorically.

Gau took a deep breath, eyes closed in contentment, and the boy crooned in reply. Sabin couldn't imagine a better answer than that.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Short and sweet, just the way I like it. A lot of the weird Figaro stuff that's referenced in here was in a doujinshi written by Soraya Saga, the woman behind the original idea for the Figaro twins! It was called "The Marriage of Figaro" and it's super hard to even find a tiny fraction of it, but the story was pretty interesting in a "Song of Fire and Ice" sort of way, and it really helps to strengthen the reason why Sabin wanted to get the hell outta dodge, so to speak. She mentioned that it wasn't canon, which makes sense, but this fanfic isn't canon either, so hell yeah loopholes! :V
> 
> I'm pretty sure Ms. Soraya wanted the twins to be fraternal, given that only Sabin was supposed to have the disease, but Amano drew them as identical, so I switched it around to letting the two bros have the disease, but Edgar's just not the one constantly punching the crap out of monsters or climbing mountains all the time. ...I assume the adventure wasn't kind on the king, but he had his tools (and eventually magic) to help keep him in fighting shape without forcing him to push himself further than he had to. Either way it's not going to be an issue here so don't think too hard about it.
> 
> (Also there was no mention of their great-grandfather or who he married, but the disease was kinda implied to be genetic, and thus probably due to inbreeding, *and* their uncle had it, so I just ran with the idea. Once again, don't think about it too much, I'm pretty sure Sabin became a monk so *he* wouldn't have to either. :V)
> 
> Lastly, I dunno, Cyan was obviously like a father to these two dorks, and then Sabin gets to be the older brother finally, and maybe see that it's not as easy as Edgar made it look... I dunno if I'll continue making more with these three, but they honestly don't get enough love considering how much of a good family they end up making.


End file.
